


Four

by Hannibalsimago



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 15:45:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17686361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannibalsimago/pseuds/Hannibalsimago
Summary: Some things last forever.My contribution for the “After The Fall” micro-fiction zine





	Four

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks must go to both @trashbambi and @maydei for running/organizing this fanzine. Where they had the energy and time is beyond me. Thank you both for such a lovely idea and wrangling authors especially on such a short timeframe. It was an honor to be included. 
> 
> Additional kudos and thanks go to my beta @vix-specs who always is incredibly patient and supportive and makes my prose much more manageable. You are a shining star in your own right. Please everyone - go read all Vix’s stories!
> 
> A big stack of freshly starched pocket squares go to @purplesocrates because I always seem to make her cry.

 

_One._

 

“It’s beautiful,” murmured Will.

 

Hannibal could see it in his eyes, acceptance, exultation, love. Along with Will’s decision.

 

He did not resist. He wouldn’t impose his will on this spectacular moment.

 

Hannibal went first and Will followed.

 

_Two._

 

Contact. Hannibal’s lips brushed against Will’s face as he clutched him close inhaling his scent, tasting the Red Dragon on his skin as they fell.

“ _Incomparable,”_ he thought of all the meals he’d made over the years, running through his catalog of tastes and aromas _“This surpasses them all.”_

 

_Three._

 

He thought about their future together, possibilities spinning out before him. Someplace warm. With Will’s expertise in sailing and Hannibal’s money, there were few places off limits to them now. Hannibal had a lifetime of skills cultivating staying hidden in plain sight. Will was equally adept at deflecting suspicion when he chose.

 

He liked the idea of South America first, to his safe house in Venezuela. From there onward to Indonesia. There was an island waiting for them; he won it in a poker game from a drug smuggler. ‘ _He became a toothsome pate. I wonder if it’s a dish I should recreate? I’m sure the dogs would enjoy it.’_ Hannibal smiled.

 

He had waiting chests of silk and cotton batik shirts, silk sarongs and linen suits. He envisioned a gamut of choices for them from walking on moonlight beaches hand in hand or stalking prey through the jungle, both equally enticing. The silk of the fabrics would never surpass the beauty of the sheen of sweat on Will’s skin nor the fire in his sea tossed eyes.

 

And if the tropics paled, there were other adventures to be had. Patagonia. They could live like kings at the bottom of the world, virtually ensuring they would not be caught. Glaciers, snow-capped mountains, upland meadows and verdant valleys awaited them. Seclusion and anonymity were all but guaranteed. He imagined a rustic cabin with enough space for as big a dog pack as Will liked. They could have horses and be South American cowboys. It had cache.

 

If Will desired to live someplace more populated, there was the allure of India with excesses on both ends of the spectrum. It would be easy for both of them to be lost in the crowds, to exult in their predatory skills. They could live wherever they chose, high in the mountain ranges growing tea or in the midst of Delhi. So many possibilities.

 

He gazed at the man in his arms, pulling him close and murmuring, “I love-”

 

_Four._

 

He slammed into the Atlantic with as much force as if he had run out on the interstate in front of a car going eighty miles an hour. An unforgiving ocean engulfed them both in a icy embrace.

 

Will surfaced first, gasped and scrambled searching for the older man. He grabbed him and  struggled to hang onto Hannibal’s unconscious body while fighting to keep his head above the waves. He was dimly aware of the blood in the water, spilling from gunshot wounds and running down his face in time with his heartbeat.

 

He saw the boat’s lights dancing over the water as it chugged towards them. A life preserver sailed over the edge of the boat and landed nearby. How he pulled Hannibal through the circular opening and managed to keep his head out of the water was a mystery to him. He helped hoist him up onto the rear deck before Chiyoh grabbed the unconscious man and heaved him onto the boat proper. She wriggled the preserver off Hannibal and shoved it at Will who clutched it fervently. She pulled and he climbed out of the clutches of the ocean.

 

He spent a few precious moments crawling toward Chiyoh, holding Hannibal’s head carefully in her lap, keening an eerie wail.

 

“Four seconds. That’s all he got. You kill everything you touch Will Graham.”

  
  
  



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